Author's Note:

Hi all, Bomul here!

So, I've finally decided that I'd give writing a shot. I've been sitting on this story for the better part of the past decade, but it's only now that I've come to the realization that if I don't write it now, I most likely never will. This will be my first attempt at creative writing, and as such, I would highly appreciate any and all forms of feedback and/or criticism; even if it's as minor as pointing out a spelling or grammatical error.

Due to length issues, this story will be divided into three arcs, with each arc being given its own story entry. Of course, these stories will all fall under the "Fearless" moniker, and will be labelled in the first chapter to make clear which arc it is (This story is the first arc, if that isn't painfully obvious by this point). Needless to say, I plan on this being a substantially lengthy story, so it should take a considerable amount of time before this story is completed.

Being that this is the start of the first chapter, there are a few disclaimers and points that I would like to make clear. I will only be including a permanent author's note twice throughout this arc; one at the beginning and one at the end (all other author's notes that I include will be deleted within a month of posting). As such, I humbly ask that you spare a moment and read through some of the things I have to say before you get started.

First off, the obligatory "I do not own Pokémon" message. This should come as no surprise.

Second, I would like to apologize in advance for any and all misuse of the English language. Though I try my best to avoid them, it can be difficult for me to identify all of my written errors when English is not my native language. I humbly ask for your understanding.

Third, expect chapters to be uploaded approximately once every two or three months. Of course, that is a substantially lengthy amount of time between chapters, so I will be posting updates on the progress of the next chapter on my FanFiction profile page. If you ever find yourself wondering when the next chapter will be coming out, I would highly recommend you check that out.

And fourth, probably most important of all, I want to make it as clear as possible right now that this is an M rated story. The tags listed in the story summary are there for a reason. Action will play a heavy role in this narrative, which brings with it all the horrors that one could inflict upon another. Mature themes such as violence, gore, strong language and sexually suggestive/explicit themes will all be prominent features of this narrative, so if this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea then I would advise refraining from reading this story.

Now, while I doubt many will be bothered by the above tags, there will be some that may take issue with the inclusion of lemons, especially since there are no human characters within the story. Of course, its inclusion will be sporadic and for narrative reasons; explicit sexual content will not be included for the sole purpose of providing smut. That said, I am sure that there may be a small handful of people that may want to skip these scenes entirely. Therefore, chapters with lemons will be marked with an asterisk (*) to give you an indication and early warning that said chapter will contain such material.

(Edit: Due to concerns with FFN's content guidelines, this version of the fic will have all graphic lemons cut from it. Note that this censoring is limited to lemons only. Everything else, such as gore and sexually explicit themes, will still be included. Chapters that have lemons cut from it will still be marked with an asterisk (*) to note that said chapter has been censored. The uncensored version of Fearless: Wrath of an Empire can be found on Archive of our Own (AO3) under the same title and author name. The link to said version can be found on my profile page here on FFN, so if you are at all interested in seeing that version instead, I ask that you make your way over there.)

In fear of this becoming an essay that nobody wants to read, I will end what I have to say here. To you, the reader, I wish to say thank you for giving this fanfiction of mine a chance, and I do hope you'll choose to stay until its completion. This story has only just begun; I have already planned out most of the story as well as its conclusion, and I plan to see this story through to its completion. Updates may come slower than you or I would like, but rest assured that they will be coming.

Now, without further ado. I present to you arc one of three: Fearless: Wrath of an Empire.

Chapter 1

Prologue

. . . . . . . . . .

? ? : ? ?, ? ? ? ? ?, Unified Year ? ? ? ? - ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

. . . . .

The first thing I noticed as I opened my eyes was the sky.

Yet, for what felt like an eternity, I couldn't quite understand what it was about it that held my attention like it did. I stared up into the vastness of the open air, its brilliant red pulling me in.

To be completely frank, it's not that I've never seen a sunset or a sunrise before. And it certainly isn't that I've never witnessed the wonder and majesty of a clear night's sky, either. Having lived in the outskirts of the Federation, sights of natural beauty are about as common as can be. So, in all fairness, the wild hues of the sun moving beyond the horizon should never be a source of astonishment.

But this sky isn't that of a sunset. Nor is it of a sunrise.

As a matter of fact, it's just past noon.

I'm not quite sure how I can tell, given that I really ought to have no idea what time it is. I look up again, the red sky blotting out the sun. There's light up there, but its source remains hidden from sight. Something up there must be hiding it from my view.

I stare up at the clouds for a while longer. There's something so captivating about this particular sky that I haven't felt before. Yet this time, as I drew my gaze back to the heavens above, it wasn't the colour that strikes me. It's the presence it has.

It feels heavy. Like an omnipresent weight exerting its pressure on me.

This isn't natural.

I cough, feeling a lump in the back of my throat as I breathed in the dusty air. It feels thick and corrosive, as if I were wading through a pool of acid. My eyes seem to agree; they're starting to tear up from how much the air is making them sting. I bring my paws up to rub my eyes, but that only seems to make things worse.

I'm amazed at how naturally my body is handling this entire situation, given that this is all so novel to me. I can't seem to recall the last time I've felt air this putrid, since I've smelled air this foul.

Is this what it's like in the city? Dad always told me that the cities had a certain griminess in its quality, quite distinct from the fresh, crisp earthiness of Winteroot Town. As someone who's never left Winteroot before, I can't help but find the dangerous appeal of city life to be alluring. Not that I would consider myself a country girl… Winteroot Town isn't some farming village in the middle of nowhere with little to no infrastructure. But I have to admit, there's not much to do here. As a place to retire, I can't think of a better place than here. But for a growing girl? No, this small-town atmosphere just isn't enough to keep me occupied.

I take in a deep breath. The acrid smell of gunpowder is so strong that I can almost taste it. The dust is so thick that it almost chokes me all over again.

I know I've always wanted to visit the city, but if this is what it's like then I think it's about time that I begin to reevaluate that wish of mine.

Wait… Gunpowder?

I can't believe that it's taken me this long to notice. But now that I have, I can't get it to leave my mind. The stench of it is so overwhelming that it's completely overshadowed every other outside stimulus that I'm experiencing. As a matter of fact, it's begun to invade into my other senses. I swear that I can taste a peculiar sharpness on my tongue.

Actually, how do I even know that what I'm smelling is gunpowder? I've never smelled it before, let alone see any or touch it with my bare paws. I'm pretty confident that dad's well accustomed to this stuff, though he refuses to talk about how he got to be so intimately familiar with it. I'm pretty sure it's some sort of weird experiment that he's doing; he's always up to something of the sort where he refuses to get me involved.

But I'm not him, so I shouldn't know what gunpowder is like. To be frank, I have no idea what colour gunpowder even is. And yet, despite all that, I'm filled with an unyielding confidence that what I'm smelling, what I'm tasting, has to be gunpowder. As if I've known it for all my life.

I start to look around me, trying to pinpoint the source of the smell. Instead, I end up turning in circles, my own senses confusing me. Trying to find where its coming from is like trying to find a single source for the sweet smells that surround you while standing in the middle of a field of pecha trees; it's coming from so many directions that it's impossible to pinpoint just one location.

Rather than find a source of the smell, I instead pick up on a distinct noise. Off in the distance, I can hear someone. I think they're screaming, but I can't say for certain. Their voice is far too muffled and quiet for me to decipher what they're saying.

As a matter of fact, everything seems to be a bit hazy. I can smell the smoke and dust lingering around me. I can see the vivid shades of red filling the sky. I can feel the coarse dirt beneath my paws and I can hear the slurred voices of those that are supposedly around me. But somehow, none of it quite connects with me.

It's right around now that something dawns upon me.

Where… Where am I….?

This place can't be Winteroot Town. I hadn't thought about it until now, but now that it's occurred to me, it's impossible to not notice. These wide, rolling plains don't look anything like the thick forest that surrounds my home.

Unless… Unless this place really is Winteroot…? Then what happened here?

I'm starting to doubt myself. Looking at the landscape again, I'm noticing all the trenches and craters across the land. Normally, the trees would be far too big to remove completely; if all the trees here were cut, there would have to be tree stumps littering the entire place. But if the whole place was bombarded by something more powerful than what any Pokémon could achieve, then…

"Someone get that damn Eevee!"

…No, the entire landscape here isn't natural. Someone did this, to the sky and to the ground. Then that means that there really is the possibility that this wasteland I'm standing in is what used to be Winteroot Town.

I guess in a way that sort of makes sense. I don't ever recall having left Winteroot recently… Or ever. This place is the only place I've known my entire life. It's also incredibly improbable that I've been sent instantaneously to some other location; I simply don't have that kind of ability within me. Nor does, for that matter, anyone else in Winteroot Town. If someone did, they'd almost certainly sell that service to everyone else here. It'd be stupid not to, given that the only other way out of this place is by train, or a three-day hike to the nearest town.

But none of the typical landmarks associated with home are to be seen anywhere. For starters, even if there was some incredible power that could completely deforest an area, to remove all traces of every single tree in the vast McPherson Forest? That was just utterly impossible. And for that matter, where are the mountains? Even if there was, by some remote chance, a method to deforest nearly a quarter of the Federation's territory, the same most definitely can't be said for removing all traces of a mountain, let alone an entire mountain range. No, I'm pretty confident in saying that it's just scientifically unfeasible for that to have happened. Besides, I've been taught by my dad, who says he used to work as a scientist for some big organization before I was born, and I'm no slouch when it comes to the sciences, if I do say so myself.

My train of thought comes screeching to a halt as I hear a distant boom, the ground shaking with alarming vigor. I guess the question of where I am isn't so important as compared to the real question at hand.

Seriously… What happened here? What's going on?

That voice… I can hear it again. Louder this time. I turn my head towards it, ripping myself from the thoughts in my head that had held me for so long. I can't quite figure out what it is, but it's something… no, someone, running towards my general direction. I can't tell out who it is yet, but my ears are starting to pick up on what they're saying.

"W…What…?"

"…down…!"

I look towards it, confused.

"I… I c-can't hear you!"

Argh… This is beyond frustrating! I can make out the fact that whoever is coming towards me is male; I can't imagine any girl having a voice that deep. Yet, no matter how close he gets, my eyes just won't give me the clarity I need. Neither, for that matter, will any of my other senses. I can barely make out the simplest of things happening around me.

"…Get down!"

…Oh.

The only thing I could think of as I felt the rush of heat approaching my side was that I wished I could have heard him sooner. My body gets thrown back from the force of whatever it was that had just hit me, its flames licking my body. It doesn't take long for the heat to become unbearable, and yet the sensation of burning never seems to leave my body. As a matter of fact, it feels like it's only getting hotter.

This all feels too gradual to be real. It's getting hotter, but the heat isn't instantaneous. Likewise, it seems to be taking far too long for me to get back down onto the ground. It feels sickly, having my brain work so hard given that my senses are supplying it with such limited and delayed information. Or rather, maybe time is moving too slow for my head. Everything seems to have slowed down as I find myself being flung through the air.

A sharp pain runs along my back as I hit the ground, my clouded senses getting scrambled further still as I tumble to a stop. My body writhes in agony from having crashed into the ground, half my body searing from getting burned. My body screams out like an animal, but with my mouth so full of dirt, I'm the only one who can hear it.

That said, is what I'm feeling actually pain? To any normal Pokémon, it would be obvious that I would be suffering, and yet, despite knowing what had just happened to me, I can't seem to feel any physical pain. Or, at least, pain in a form that I was familiar with. I'm definitely hurting, that much is obvious. But like my other senses, the sensations feel so surreal that my head hasn't even managed to determine if the things that I'm feeling are even real or not.

I roll myself to my side, hearing the fur on my body crunch as chips of charred fluff crumble off my body. I guess that hurt a lot more than I realized cause the simple act of rolling is making me groan. My body won't move any more than that, it simply refuses to comply. I think I might have a broken rib or two, but if I'm being completely honest, I can't tell.

Actually, while we're on that topic, I can barely feel anything below my neck. Did I really roll my body to my side? Or was that just my imagination? I try to roll my body over to its other side, but my body fails to respond. I don't think I'll be able to get back on my feet again any time soon.

I turn my gaze back to where I once was; still trying to figure out what had just hit me. In the distance, I can make out some sort of winged figure. It's body was a deep shade of black and grey, though I can't tell if that colour was natural, or if it was from all the dust and soot it's collected.

My sight shifts entirely as something comes crashing down beside me. Just smelling it makes me want to throw up. I study it for a brief moment, before realizing that, whatever it is, it's organic. Judging by its size and shape, I reckon that it's the guy from earlier who was running up towards me. And yet, even with him right in front of me like this, I still can't tell who he is: his body is charred beyond recognition.

I breathe in, taking in the smells of the place around me once again. That sharp scent of gunpowder is back, the way it fills my nose feeling almost invasive. None of the smells are pleasant, especially that new one. I'm not sure where exactly it's coming from but it smells metallic, like rust or iron.

Wait, isn't this the smell of blood? I know this smell, but I've never smelled one that seemed so potent.

Then I taste it.

Is… Is this my blood…?

I want to turn away. I want to get him out of my sight. I want to run away from all these wretched sensations that were starting to creep into me. Yet my body refuses to listen to my commands, my consciousness trapped in a prison that was formerly its vessel. I'm stuck here, a burnt husk right in front of my eyes, my ears filled with the sounds of distant thunder and the ceaseless screams of those that were doomed to share a fate similar to mine.

For a moment, I wonder if they're dying. I can't see them, but I can definitely hear them. And if what I'm hearing is right, then I definitely don't want to see them.

I'm scared.

No… I've been scared this whole time. This whole situation has scared me from the very beginning. I don't know how I got here, or what really is even happening around me. But I know for certain that I want out, and I want it now.

So then how is it that I'm so calm about all this?

"…eki…!"

It's honestly rather unnerving, the fact that this whole situation is doing so little to upset me. As a matter of fact, it might be safe to say that the fact that I'm not getting so worked up over my current situation is perhaps the most upsetting thing that's happening to me. It makes no sense that I would feel what can be described as pure terror from all this, and yet have no sort of visceral reaction to this entire ordeal. Especially given that, up till this moment I had led a, quite frankly, sheltered life. The worst I get is the occasional bullying at school and even that manages to scare me so much that I sometimes can't get myself out from the safety of my bed. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, the prospect of laying on the ground on the verge of death, my body broken and mangled, is getting such an underwhelming reaction out of me.

It's all just feeling a little too surreal.

I let out a long, drawn out sigh. I don't even bother trying to move my body; it won't listen to me at all. My mouth is still full of dirt, and I'm pretty sure that I'm starting to suffocate. But my body still refuses to do anything about it.

The longer this continues, the more I feel as if I'm not really in control of my body.

"Ki…eki…!"

Actually, how exactly did I get here?

Last that I recall, I was in Winteroot Town. To be more exact, I was in a Winteroot Town that wasn't devastated by what looks like years and years of battle. As a matter of fact, I distinctly recall having left home only just a few hours ago.

So how exactly did I end up in this battlefield?

I'm pretty sure I'm in a war zone. Or at least some form of conflict area. Though, given the scale of the place I'm in, I'd say it's a safe estimate to call this place a war zone. No matter how I look at it, the landscape has been destroyed in a way that only warfare can do so. Or, rather, I can't think of any other good reason for digging mile after mile of complex trench networks. Nor, for that matter, for the Pokémon here to brutally massacre one another so indiscriminately.

And on that matter, how is it that I, who can only really be here as a combatant, is sent to fight without any form of protection or equipment? I'm not even wearing one of those metal hat things that you find all soldiers wearing. I get that there are some Pokémon that simply can't wear a helmet because they don't fit on an anatomical level, but I'm clearly not one of them! Everyone else around me seems to be wearing them, so where in the world is mine?

Actually, isn't there supposed to be some law in place that says children aren't allowed to fight in a war as combatants? I know it seems silly to me to call myself a child, but I'm still only sixteen! I may not be a child per se, but I still classify as a minor!

I let out a long, deep sigh, though I doubt if anyone around me heard it. I'm not even sure if my body sighed at all. In the end, I guess none of that really matters to me. I'm about to die, and there really isn't anything else that I can do about it. I can feel my consciousness fading, and I doubt there's going to be a way to bring me back. Again, I'm surprised that I'm not panicking about all this, but…

Oh well.

I think I'll just… Take a bit of a break.

"Kiteki!"

Argh, whoever it is, stop calling out my name! I've already made up my mind, so let me just die in peace!

Though… I have to admit. Whoever is calling out to me… His voice does sound somewhat familiar.

I guess I'll humour him for a little.

"W-What do you want…?"

I have to say… I certainly wasn't expecting to hear what I heard next.

"Kit, wake up!"

Huh?

Wait…

…

…What?